I needed to tell Hudson that his cat and I were BFFs like yesterday, but I failed each time I tried. He said he wanted us to get along, but there was always a mischievous twitch of his lips when he’d inevitably shrug and give Ledgie pets while calling her a daddy’s girl. Whether he wanted to admit it, I knew he loved that she only had a connection with him. Or he thought she did, anyway. But knowing he liked being her favorite wasn’t a reason to withhold this from him.
I raked my blunt fingernails across the scruff on my face and ignored the twinge of doubt in my gut. We had a limited window to film before Hudson got back. His Saturday ceramics classes were the only times I could count on filming content.
“It’ll take just a bit of editing, and then it’ll look like you’re flying in front of a full moon.” My phone buzzed in the tripod as I filmed Ledgie cleaning her paws. Maybe I could figure out how to add a cauldron to the shot so it looked like she’d swiped her paw in it and was licking it up. After getting a few more shots, I checked my notifications.
Ollie: This morning’s coffee date was a bust.
Leo: That sucks, man. Where did you meet this one?
Ollie: Tinder.
Leo: Isn’t that a hookup app? Why were you meeting for a coffee date?
Ollie: If the coffee date had gone well, we could’ve hooked up. I’m searching for Mr. Right, but I’m not against Mr. Right Now. [wink emoji]
I snorted and plopped onto the couch. Ledgie hopped off the dining chair I used as my makeshift filming studio and settled on my lap. I undid the Velcro under her chin, pulled off the hat, and scratched her ears. She purred like a furry motorboat.
Ollie: Speaking of Mr. Right, how’d it go with Hudson last night?
Leo: Nice segue. [eyeroll emoji]
Ollie: I thought so.
I stared at my phone, not sure what to say. I heard him jerking off, and it turned me on. A lot. What does that mean? No way in hell could I say that to Ollie. I wanted to talk to someone about my feelings and confusion, but Hudson was who I would normally turn to. Not exactly possible when he was the cause of my turmoil. It wasn’t his fault. No, if anyone was to blame, Ollie held that title for turning a switch on in my brain.
Leo: How come you’re giving me so much extra shit about Hudson?
Ollie: I always give you shit. About Hudson, your weird food habits, how obnoxious you are after you get a strike. There’s so much material for me to work with.
Leo: [middle finger emoji] Seriously. People tease me about us being attached at the hip all the time, but this is different.
Ollie: How? Are you interested in him?
I sat with those questions for a couple of minutes. Was I interested in him? Hudson was objectively attractive with his curly hair, round belly, and bright eyes, but I’d never really thought about having sex with him. Until last night.
Ollie: I might be crossing a line here, but have you ever heard of the Kinsey Scale?
Leo: What’s that?
Ollie sent a link to a website that explained the spectrum of heterosexuality to homosexuality. There was so much more to it than I’d ever realized. I might’ve assumed it was more complicated on some subconscious level, but seeing it written out all academic-like fascinated me. But why now? If I was feeling something for Hudson, why hadn’t it happened until my thirties? That had to be abnormal. But as I read more about the Kinsey Scale, I considered that maybe it wasn’t all men or even many men who drew my interest. It could be mostly women and…Hudson?
Could it be that easy? Did I want to have sex with Hudson? I sure as hell had last night.
As Ollie sent me more articles, I fell down a rabbit hole reading all sorts of things. Jesus, sexuality was way more complicated than I’d ever given it credit for. I had no idea how long I spent sitting on the couch reading, researching, and thinking. Then freaking out because I wasn’t freaking out more at the idea that maybe I wasn’t one hundred percent straight.
The familiar beep from Hudson’s car alarm startled me.
Shit. “Daddy’s home.” Ledgie’s head popped up, eyes opening wide as she woke from her nap. She grabbed the hat between her teeth and dragged it under the couch.
I jumped up, wrapped the props into a bundle with the green cloth, snagged the tripod, rushed into my room, and tossed them into my closet. I quickly returned the dining chair to the table, then dropped back onto the couch, attempting to look casual as Hudson’s familiar steps neared the door.
I didn’t have enough time to turn on the TV, so I grabbed my phone and started scrolling TikTok.
“Hey,” Hudson said as he entered.
I heard the soft smile in his voice. He was always in a great mood after his ceramics class. His curly hair was even wilder than before. I pictured him using his forearm to push it off his forehead to keep his clay-covered hands away from the strands. I couldn't imagine Hudson enjoying getting dirty with the clay, but he’d told me once it was one of the only places he could tolerate mess. Which left me wondering if he enjoyed getting dirty in other ways. Not the time for those thoughts!
“How was it?”
